Irrational
by randomwriting
Summary: A mistake from the past haunts the present. SC
1. Chapter 1

Irrational

Disclaimer: Any recognizable character is owned by creators, producers, etc., not me

Spoiler: Dispo Day; story follows my fics: The Perfect Place& On the Eve

Summary: A past mistake haunts the present

Irrational

Standing by the kitchen sink, feeling fatigue wash over her and gazing out the window at nothing in particular in the dark, Calleigh startled when she heard the unmistakable sound of keys in the apartment door lock. She turned to check the time on the stove clock. 8:47 PM glowed in green neon. It had been three hours since she had arrived home, three hours for her anger to percolate, three hours for the recent lack of sleep to catch up with her and three hours without word from her husband.

She cast a quick glance in the sink at the remains of the dinner she had hastily thrown together, but didn't have the appetite for and she sighed deeply. Random leftovers she barely remembered, bits of which now sat hardening on her plate and the various containers they had been stored in, she thought she must have been hungry at the time, or perhaps she just needed activity to keep her mind occupied. The compulsive side of her wanted to clean the mess now, but the rational side realized she had neither the energy nor the desire and besides, right now she had something more important to attend to.

Looking at the mess, a brief pang of guilt wedged it's way into her consciousness, right on the heels of realizing she had tossed everything out and left nothing for Tim to eat, but the guilt was quickly crowded out by anger, the dominant emotion these past couple days and that, that was something she was still trying to understand.

'Serves him right,' she thought to herself as she straightened up, briskly turned and purposely strode from the kitchen, the three inch heels of her boots clicking loudly across the tile floor. She nearly collided with her husband as he attempted to make his way into the kitchen, causing her to abruptly stop in her tracks and stand there blocking his entrance.

He sighed loudly, narrowed his eyes at her and simply stood waiting. More disheveled looking than usual, slumped in the shoulders, with fatigue clouding his eyes and dark circles surrounding them, his exhaustion was striking and for a moment she wanted to embrace him and put this fight behind them, but something held her back. He leaned against the door frame as if he could no longer hold up his weight. She knew he'd left early that morning, long gone before she had gotten out of bed at 5:30AM, leaving no note, which both surprised and hurt her. They stood staring at each other, both wondering who would make the first move and what that would be.

That was quickly determined. With her anger coming off her like a scent, she straightened her back, raised herself to her full height, stood with her hands on her hips and looked him square in his tired eyes, her own fatigue now forgotten.

"Do you have anything at all to say for yourself?" she asked, her voice clipped and her tone sharp.

His tired eyes briefly flashed with anger before he quickly pushed by her and made his way to the fridge, where he prayed there would be at least one beer to help him get through this night.

"I'm waiting," she called to his back, trying to remain steady and not let her emotions get the best of her.

He knew she was just trying to start something and that he should resist the urge to give her what she wanted, but she had been pushing him the last couple of days and he had had it.

"Calleigh back off!" he shouted, before opening the procured bottle of precious amber colored liquid and gulping it down, as he leaned against the counter refusing to look at her.

She was momentarily taken aback, he had never raised his voice to her, not once in their nearly seven months of marriage, or ever in all the time she'd known him. In fact, until now, they'd rarely had an argument or cross word with each other. But this, this was more than an argument and it seemed to be taking on a life of it's own.

She couldn't fathom where all her anger was coming from or why she felt like she had no control over it, but there was no disguising it and she knew that's what Tim was reacting to. This behavior was just not like her, she loved Tim, more than anything, but she was hardly acting like it these past couple of days, she was either mad at him or pushing him away, or both. The tension between them was palpable, making her grateful everyone at work had chosen to steer clear, leaving the two them to work things out on their own. But that, that was not happening and the chasm between them was growing wider and wider.

It had been three long days and they were still barely speaking, he was avoiding her as much as possible and worst of all, they were no longer sharing a bed at night, which would account for the dark circles under his eyes and the heavy concealer she used under her own. Remembering the last two nights in bed alone was upsetting, but she maintained her fighting stance and continued glaring at the man in front of her, the same man she promised to love and cherish forever not all that long ago.

"Tim I'm trying to talk to you," she snapped, no longer trying to mask the fury she felt

"No Calleigh, you just want to take shots at me." His words caused a sudden cold shiver down her back, but did nothing to diffuse her anger.

"That's all you want anymore. You stopped trying to talk to me a couple days ago and I'm sick of it. I just want to drink my beer, close my eyes and be left alone, you should have no problem with that," he answered candidly, his voice sounding weary.

"Fine Tim. That will solve everything. Just hide out and avoid any conflict, you're good at that..."

"This 'conflict' is all your doing, if you recall," he interrupted, to snap back.

"My doing?" Her voice was nothing like her usual calm and in control tone.

"How can you possibly say that? This is going on because of your behavior, past and present ...and because... you don't think or care about any one else, especially me..." She said that last part under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

His reaction surprised her and captured her attention. He slammed the beer bottle on the counter with more force than necessary, the golden liquid foaming out the top, spilling onto the counter and all over his hand, but he was oblivious to it, his anger now matching hers, coming off him in waves and causing the heat to rise in the small room they were standing in.

"Is that really what you think?" He paused for emphasis. "That's what you've reduced me to? Thanks for your faith in me Calleigh." He shook his head in frustration and in his eyes she saw the hurt along with the anger.

"No matter what I do, you're never gonna let it go, are you?" he asked, his voice now low and raspy. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze unwavering, and the emotion in his words and on his face was raw and felt like a knife in her heart.

"You're being completely irrational about this. I did nothing wrong."

She knew what he was referring to, but she couldn't truthfully respond, wouldn't let his words sink in and think about the truth behind them, it was easier to be angry and she allowed his words to further fuel her fire, despite the pain she felt.

"I'm irrational? You did nothing wrong? Are we even having the same conversation?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You call this a conversation? Do you know how many times I've tried to talk to you and had the door slammed in my face? I don't know why I bother to try," he answered harshly, not trying to diminish his temper. He hated being this angry with her, but nothing he did was right and he knew he should leave before he said something he regretted.

"Is this what you call trying?" she responded, continuing to stand directly in front of him as if sensing he wanted to leave.

"Avoiding me, sleeping on the couch, that is, when you bother to come home at all." She felt the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyes but refused to give in to them.

"Are you for real? You asked me to leave our bed, have you forgotten that?" He was shouting again.

"You couldn't wait to leave if you recall and you left in the morning before I woke up without even telling me." A single tear made it's way down her cheek but she ignored it. He wanted to reach over and gently wipe it away but thought better of it under the circumstances.

"You made it clear you didn't want me around." She could see his hurt, could hear it in his voice and she just wanted this to end. Had she really asked him to leave their bed? All she knew was that she missed him terribly, missed him at night, missed him in the morning, missed him right now when he was standing inches away from her, but in reality, further away than he'd ever been and still, she continued to push him away.

"Why are you here at all? I'm surprised you're here now. Where have you been hiding out? Didn't your shift end when mine did? I didn't notice you here when I got home."

"What was I coming home to? A wife that doesn't want me around, who won't talk to me or even tell me what the hell is going on?" His eyes were boring into hers, he had no clue how to stop this train they were on and it was heading some place he was certain they didn't want to go.

"What did you expect after what you said this afternoon?" she asked. She looked to him, as if her heart was broken, which was enough to immediately put the brakes on his temper and make him forever regret opening his mouth.

They had both been at the scene of a home murder, a wife who had been strangled in her sleep, allegedly by her husband, as all evidence pointed in his direction. Alexx was getting ready to check a liver temperature and innocently asked the victim, 'Sugar why would he do this to you? I just can't imagine why, a pretty girl like you.' Tim was making his way past and said under his breath, 'Oh, believe me, I can.' Alexx didn't hear him, but Calleigh, who was standing closest to him, could. He instantly regretted his words, knew it was the worst possible thing he could have said, wounded pride or not, but it was too late. She stood still long enough for him to see the hurt register on her face then she turned and bolted from the room. He quickly caught up to her and apologized profusely but she would have none of it, she walked away and wouldn't speak to him. He made himself scarce for the remainder of the day.

"Calleigh how many times do I have to apologize for that? I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. It was a horrible thing to say, but I wasn't saying it to you, or about you," he said softly.

"Oh, was it meant for some other wife, Tim?" The tears were so close now she didn't think she could hold them back. She blinked rapidly hoping to ward them off, he had hurt her more than he would ever know, but this wasn't the time to appear weak.

He could see how upset she was, that she was trying to keep from crying and he reached out for her hand. "Cal, I'm so sorry. You have to know I love you more than anything. Please just talk to me, we can work this out," he pleaded, trying to convince her.

She abruptly pulled back her hand as if she'd been burnt, but instead it was he who was burnt, again.

"Why did you even come home?" she asked again, a lump growing in her throat, tears brimming her eyes.

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I don't know anymore. Obviously it was a mistake."

"Coming home or our marriage? Maybe both were a mistake." That statement surprised him, however the way things were going, maybe it shouldn't. But, really, could she really be questioning their marriage he wondered?

"I don't know Calleigh, take your pick." He was tired. He also needed to leave. Now.

He abruptly made his way past her, grabbed his keys off the little table in the hallway and walked out the door, never looking back and closing it behind him with enough force to make it slam far louder than he intended, but it didn't much matter any more.

He disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving her more determined than ever not to give in to her tears. She had succeeded in pushing him away, from her, from their bed, now from their home, had that been her intention all along? To push him away before he could leave her, is that what she wanted she wondered? Was it supposed to hurt less that way? But Tim didn't want to leave her, she knew that and she didn't want him to go, she knew that, also. So why was she acting so irrationally? Why couldn't she just admit to herself and to him why she was shutting him out, pushing him away?

She knew why, she could see the reason every time she closed her eyes. It was all in her head, it wasn't real, but it shook her to the core and she couldn't shake the fear or the feeling of powerlessness the image left her with and those were two feelings she couldn't abide.

Tim was gone, she was alone and finally she let her tears fall.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Irrational

He sped down the highway, careful to obey all posted speed limits, this wasn't a night he wanted to get pulled over and as much as he felt like pushing the limits on his bike, getting pulled over, or worse, getting into an accident, wouldn't improve his mood any. He was torn, he knew he had to get out of the apartment, they weren't communicating, things were worse now than they were before and they just kept hurting each other. Still, leaving her was wrong, he knew that, and it pained him to walk out on her. What kind of husband was he to walk out on his wife? God, how had they gotten so screwed up in such a short time he wondered.

His anger rolled off him, riding his bike always did that for him, but he didn't feel any kind of relief tonight. In fact, he felt worse instead of better, his heart heavy with guilt. He was as far apart from Calleigh as he'd ever been and he couldn't figure out how to reach her because he couldn't rationalize why she was so angry with him. She just wasn't an angry or unreasonable person, if anything she was probably guilty of swallowing her anger too often instead of dealing with it. Maybe he should look at this as progress. That caused a wry chuckle to escape his lips. Along with trying to figure out what was going on with her, now he wondered if she still wanted to be his wife. The only certainty he knew was that he missed her more than he thought possible and he was frustrated and miserable.

He pulled into the parking lot of the first bar he found that was open, looked decent and had vehicles parked in the lot. There was no one he wanted to see tonight and the bar seemed a better alternative than driving all night. He only hoped the beer wouldn't make him too tired to drive later, he couldn't very well spend the night there, well, at least he didn't think so, although maybe his wife wouldn't care where he spent the night. Fortunately he wasn't on shift until noon tomorrow, which was a good thing because he had to get some sleep somewhere, he'd hardly slept at all the past two nights and it didn't look like he'd be getting some any time soon.

Why he wasn't sleeping was obvious, and it wasn't because the couch was uncomfortable, on the contrary, he'd fallen asleep while watching TV on that couch plenty of times, it was because he wasn't with his wife, she didn't want him and had asked him to leave their bedroom, that's why he wasn't sleeping. He just couldn't figure out what was going on with her.

The day this all began they had gone to bed together after arguing, both upset, but at least sharing the same bed, just sleeping further apart than usual. Calleigh had woken up during the night, in a bit of a panic, as if she'd had a bad dream and it had woken him as well. He tried to comfort her but she'd pushed him away, had been furious with him, for no reason he could figure and she wouldn't tell him why. She just insisted on being alone and he had no choice but to move to the couch, where he didn't sleep at all the remainder of the night. He left early the next morning, before she woke and without even leaving her a note, admittedly because he was aggravated with her for kicking him out of bed and shutting him out. And if he was being honest, that had hurt him.

Later that day he found her alone in the break room at work and he tried to talk to her, but she wanted no part of him. Arriving home late that night he once more tried to talk to her, but she went to their bedroom and slammed the door on him. He got the message loud and clear and spent another restless night on the couch, again leaving before she woke in the morning. This couldn't continue, he decided, he wouldn't spend another night without her, but here he was walking into a bar alone instead of being at home. Nothing made sense anymore he thought to himself.

He gave the interior a quick once over. Kind of a dingy place, it wasn't very crowded, just a few small groups of people sitting at tables, a few more people at the bar. He chose the stool furthest away from anyone so he wouldn't be bothered. It was smoky inside and there was some lousy 80's tune that he recognized playing loudly on the jukebox, a combination certain to make his splitting headache worse.

He ordered a beer and sipped it slowly wondering what Calleigh was doing at home, he couldn't get her off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. He hoped she wasn't packing his things, but maybe he couldn't blame her. After all, he did walk out and it was a terrible thing that he had said when they were at that crime scene earlier. No matter how irrational she was acting, she didn't deserve to hear that. No wonder she looked at him like he had broken her heart, he had. He certainly hadn't meant it, he was just tired and frustrated, kind of like he was still, but that was no excuse for hurting her and now he wondered if they could ever make things right.

Tired, he rubbed his eyes and raked his hand through his hair. He wondered if the bartender had any aspirin, he should have taken some at home but he wasn't there long enough. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard an unfamiliar female voice in his ear and he glanced to his left when he realized the woman was addressing him. So distracted was he, he hadn't noticed she had come in and taken the stool next to him. She was now leaning in a bit too close for his comfort as she repeated the question she'd apparently already asked once and the combination of her too strong perfume mixed with sweat was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

"I said, do you have a light?" she asked flirtatiously, smiling in a way she probably thought was seductive. He couldn't believe he was being hit on, tonight, of all nights.

He shook his head 'no' and purposely grabbed his beer with his left hand and brought it up to his mouth slowly, hoping his gleaming white gold wedding band would not go undetected, although the way this woman was looking at him he suspected the ring wouldn't be too much of a deterrent.

"Can you tell me the time?" she inquired, staring at him with heavily made up eyes, still hoping for a bit more attention from him.

"Ten of ten," he told her succinctly after checking his watch.

She had placed her hand on his arm when he put his wrist down after checking the time and was now lightly stroking it while she rambled on about something, but he was no longer paying attention. It was time to get out of there. He pulled his arm away abruptly and reached for his wallet, throwing a couple bills on the bar before he stood up. She may be interested, but he sure as hell wasn't. There was only one place he wanted to be. He left without so much as glancing in her direction.

He was determined to make things right with Calleigh, to convince her that he loved her and wanted to be married to her, she was the only thing that was important to him, he just wasn't sure she would listen. He thought back to the day in question, when she started acting so distant and angry with him. He stopped suddenly while he was walking as things came together in his head.

'Shit. How could I be so blind and clueless?' he asked himself, vigorously rubbing his temples. It was becoming clear to him what this was all about. Why she couldn't talk to him about it, well that he didn't quite understand, but at least now he had a good idea of what was going on in her head and maybe, why she was so angry with him.

'I should have figured this out that first day, but I was too stubborn and worried about my own feelings. This is all my fault. She's not acting irrational, well, she is, but there's a reason for it. Fear will do that to a person, so will love.' He shook his head. 'I should have tried harder to get her to open up. I should have known. Maybe I knew what this was about all along but didn't want to admit it.'

He made his way to his bike just as it started to sprinkle and some lightning flashed across the sky followed by a loud crack of thunder.

"Shit!" he said aloud to no one. He hoped he would make it home before the heavens opened up making it too dangerous to be on the bike, especially at this hour and when he was so tired. He wished he had thought to grab a jacket, or taken the car instead, but he wasn't thinking clearly when he left home. As he made his way down the highway he could see and hear the lightning and thunder coming closer together. He knew the heaviest rain would be upon him momentarily and he decided to pull off the road when he saw a covered bus stop up ahead. He could wait out the worst of the rain and call home.

He parked the bike and made it to the shelter before he got soaked, a good thing since he didn't feel like getting hypothermia tonight on top of everything else and since the temperature dropped when the storm moved in, it was a possibility. He hoped this would be a brief, albeit heavy shower. He reached in his pocket for his phone, surprised to find it missing.

"Shit!" he said aloud once more, when he realized he had left his phone on the hall table at home, which meant he couldn't call Calleigh.

What must she be thinking? This night just kept getting worse. He put his head in his hands as he sat on the hard bench, grateful to be out of the rain and that he was too cold, too uncomfortable and too miserable to fall asleep. He had no choice now but to wait it out and pray his wife was going to forgive him. He wished he had asked the bartender for aspirin before he left, his head was killing him and at this rate it wasn't going to get any better on it's own.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Irrational

She woke with a start, cold and confused, she knew she wasn't in her bed, but didn't remember falling asleep on the couch. Her thoughts were foggy, she had no idea what time it was or when she'd dozed off. She rubbed her eyes wondering how long she'd been asleep, she didn't guess it had been long, she didn't feel any less exhausted than she had earlier.

Lightning lit up the sky followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder that made her jump, even though she was expecting it. Well, that explained what woke her, a light sleeper, she was often awakened by thunderstorms, had ever since she was a child. For once she was grateful to be woken by a thunderstorm instead of waking in a panic because she was dreaming of Tim lying dead in a pool of blood, the way she had the past couple of nights. She shuddered and it wasn't just from the cold.

Tim. She knew not to call out for him, he wasn't home, she'd sense his presence if he were home. It was dark and still in the apartment, it was also freezing since neither had turned down the air conditioning. Grabbing the blanket, the one from their bedroom that Tim had been using out here on the couch, she wrapped it around her shoulders while she hugged her arms tightly to her chest. She felt cold inside and out and needed more than a blanket to warm her. Bringing her nose down into the blanket, she breathed in deeply, as she suspected, the blanket smelled unmistakably like him and it just made her miss him more.

She strained her eyes to see the clock on the DVD player across the room, she could barely make out the numbers, but thought it read 11: 08 PM, meaning he'd been gone only a couple of hours, but it felt much longer. Would he be coming back? she wondered. Could she blame him if he didn't? No, she had been horrible to him. Her eyes filled with tears and she clutched the blanket tighter.

The rain sounded heavy giving her something else to worry about, she turned and pulled the curtain back, saw the torrents of water illuminated by the street lights in front of their building and she shuddered again. It was late, she knew he was exhausted and it wasn't safe for him to be riding the bike in rain this heavy, not to mention the danger of lightning. He didn't have a jacket and he didn't have his phone, that she knew because she had tried to call him after he left, heard his phone ringing in the apartment and found it lying on the hall table.

She thought about calling Delko, but figured Tim would have wanted to be alone and wouldn't go see anyone. She couldn't imagine where he was, wouldn't even know where to look for him. If only she had handled things differently when he came home that evening, if she had tried talking to him instead of continuing to push him away. She wanted to, she just hadn't been ready, she hadn't been able to figure out why she was so angry, she didn't think it was at him, but she sure had been taking it out on him. She had pushed him too far this time and maybe had lost him forever, no wonder she felt so miserable.

How could she tell him that she kept seeing him dead, that it had rocked her completely and she didn't know what to do with those feelings? The image was so clear and it wouldn't go away, no matter how many times she told herself it was all in her imagination.

Closing her eyes, she remembered Delko approaching her in the ballistics lab the afternoon the fight began, asking, a bit anxiously, if she'd heard from her husband. Seemed Eric had heard in passing, from one of the homicide detectives, that Tim and Horatio had been fired upon at a crime scene, but had no details, other than the fact that additional uniforms had been sent to the site, and hoped that she might know more. He figured it must not have been serious since neither of them had gotten a page asking all officers to respond.

While Eric was talking she felt all the blood rush from her head, giving her a feeling of lightheadedness and she felt her limbs go limp as well, making her grateful she was sitting on the stool and that she could put her hands on the counter in front of her for support. She distinctly remembered thinking, 'this is what it must be like to faint', but she didn't faint, just felt momentarily out of it. He stopped talking and was looking at her intently, asking repeatedly if she was OK. It took her a moment to answer, but she finally responded that she was fine. He was worried that he had upset her and she was touched by his concern, but she made light of the incident, told him she was just tired and had forgotten to eat. After she convinced him that she was fine, that Tim and Horatio were also fine, or they would have called for help, she sent him on his way, telling him she had to get back to work, indicating to the bags of bullet evidence spread out on the counter, then she quickly headed to the restroom, afraid she would be sick.

Nauseous, sweating and shaking all over, she couldn't stop seeing Tim lying dead in a pool of blood and it looked so real she would almost believe she had actually seen it. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before and she didn't know why it happened then, but the fear she experienced had been real and it had made her feel physically ill. She sat on the restroom floor for awhile, glad no one else was around, trying to calm down, until she got a call from Eric telling her that they were both fine and heading back to the lab. She straightened herself up, splashed cold water on her face and went back to logging ballistics evidence, determined she would never feel that scared again.

She should have been happy to see him when he found her in the ballistics lab a short while later and she was, but she had only one thing on her mind. She brushed off his efforts to embrace her and ignored his concern, she was only interested in seeing his gun, that was the only thing that would give her any peace.

Looking back, she realized she should have talked to him then, told him how scared she was, how unsettled and helpless she felt, but she didn't, because those feelings reminded her of her childhood, they didn't belong to her anymore and she didn't want them, no longer wanted to deal with them. Helplessness was foreign to the adult she had become, it wasn't something she planned on ever revisiting.

He looked at her like he didn't know her, searching her face for clues to explain her sudden chill towards him, that she remembered clearly. So determined was she to see his weapon, she wasn't listening to him at all. He tried to explain to her that he hadn't been in danger, hadn't needed to use his sidearm, that it was Horatio that had been fired upon and that he hadn't been near him at the time. He also told her that his weapon was in fine working order, he took care of it, she should know that he emphasized, but she wouldn't listen, kept insisting on seeing it for herself. He relented, finally, if only to appease her, this was a sensitive subject for him and she could see the confusion in his eyes, his word should have been enough. After that things got progressively worse.

She took a deep breath, startling again at the sound of the thunder. If only she had talked to him they wouldn't be as miserable as they both were now. She continued to play that afternoon back in her head, hoping to understand it better.

He offered her the gun, she looked inside and that's when her anger bubbled to the surface, as far as she was concerned the weapon should have been in better condition and she unleashed all of her pent up emotion onto him. He was shocked, both by her accusations and her fury. He insisted his gun was in good condition. After unsuccessfully arguing the point, he decided to demonstrate it to her at the firing range, where he proceeded to fire off round after round, proving that the gun was fine. For her, it just wasn't enough, he was lucky that time, next time he wouldn't be, which as far as she was concerned demonstrated just how little he cared about her.

That was an accusation he couldn't abide and he stormed off, but not before he leveled his own accusation at her, that she had no faith or trust in him and he left, angry and still muttering that there was nothing wrong with his weapon.

Both wounded and stubborn, they simply couldn't connect after that. She grew more angry and he grew more distant, though he did try numerous times to talk to her, but each was convinced the other was wrong and she could still see him lying in a pool of blood when she closed her eyes.

In her mind the gun probably looked worse than it was, it obviously fired without malfunctioning and that was what she was worried about. She should have trusted him and she did trust him, more than she had ever trusted anyone, but she couldn't erase the memory of what happened before and because of that, his gun would never be clean enough and she couldn't lose him that way, couldn't lose him period, except she had, she had successfully pushed him away. She wasn't sure he would ever forgive her. Once again she gave into her tears.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Irrational

He paced the small shelter, sat down on the hard metal bench, elbows resting on his knees and put his head in his hands. His knee was jiggling wildly, as if pulled by a string from above. He was unable to sit still for more than a minute without some part of him being jittery, his body telling him he needed to get out of there. The sounds of the storm only increased his agitation and he debated for the tenth time, the lunacy of trying to drive in this versus the torture of waiting it out.

It's not as if he'd never driven in weather this bad before, but still, this wasn't exactly shaping up to be his best night and with his luck he'd end up lying on the side of the road and his wife was already less than thrilled with him, so, rational thought won out over lunacy, meaning waiting it out was his only option. He checked his watch, raked his hands through his hair, got up and paced some more, repeating the sequence over and over. He would not make a good prisoner he thought to himself chuckling, he would drive himself crazy fidgeting.

Time was passing ever so slowly and he was getting wet despite being underneath the bus shelter, because it was essentially open to the elements, save the roof above him, allowing the driving rain to be blown in through the sides. He was grateful for the T shirt he had on under his button down, it provided a little warmth, but he felt chilled, none the less, in the damp, cooler temperature brought on by this passing cold front.

This is all my own fault he thought to himself as he plopped down on the bench once more, kicking aside some fast food litter that was by his feet. He checked his watch again, it had only been an hour and a half since he left home, but it felt much longer. He wondered what Calleigh was doing, tried to picture her asleep in their bed, well, 'their' bed till she kicked him out. Again he thought, 'this is all my fault.'

He sat back, resting the top of his head on the uncomfortable, hard edge of the bench. His headache had become a dull, constant pain situated right behind his eyes and rubbing them did nothing to lessen the discomfort. Lightning lit the sky just then, he could see the light, even through closed eyes and a booming crack of thunder followed almost immediately causing him to jump.

"That was a bit too close," he said aloud to no one.

He thought again of his wife at home and figured she was probably awake, never able to sleep during a thunderstorm and he hoped she was all right. This should pass over soon. He noticed there were hardly any cars out tonight even though it wasn't that late, probably the storm was keeping people off the streets. Resting his head back again, he let his thoughts travel back to the day this falling-out between them had begun, when he found her in the lab and she demanded to see his gun.

He'd been thrown by that demand, despite knowing immediately why she wanted to see his weapon and he was surprised by her unsympathetic insistence. He was also distressed, pissed off and defensive about it. What he wasn't, was understanding, he didn't bother looking past his own feelings to see hers. Even though he eventually capitulated to her demand, he remained put out by it, since she was essentially telling him he was a screw up and always would be, one she obviously didn't trust. His own wife! He still felt sensitive about the subject of his gun, then guilt took over, leaving him conflicted and miserable. If Calleigh couldn't trust him, he had no one to blame but himself.

They never talked about that day, the day of the drug disposition gone bad. Never talked about the shooting or the gun malfunction and it's cause, his screw up, his laziness. They never talked about his fear, his guilt, or he supposed, her fear. Normally they talked easily, openly, about everything, he talked to her more than he'd ever talked to another person, but they didn't talk about that day. He supposed it was because it had happened quite some time ago, before they were a couple, but mainly he imagined they didn't talk about it because it was a closed subject for him and she knew that, had always known that and she was the one person who did try to talk to him that day, even Horatio had danced around the subject, attempting, he guessed, to spare his feelings. He barely let her in then, but he knew she was concerned, it was written all over her and he loved her for that, but he couldn't deal with it.

He'd dealt with it since, well sort of, he kept his weapon maintained, thought he did a good enough job, there was just that one slip up and he'd been vigilant since then. He didn't think she knew about that, no one did, it hadn't caused a problem, thank God. More than half a year after the shooting, he'd gone out to the range to get some practice shots off, Horatio's none too subtle prodding of him, insistence with a smile and you don't know what hit you, you just know you're doing as he asked without question. He got one shot off, then nothing, the damn thing misfired, surprised him, he wasn't expecting that. But then, who expects their weapon to fail?

He never gave his sidearm much thought, it was just there and he hoped he never had to use it, unlike his wife who like all things about weapons, except, apparently, thinking about his. He checked it and as he suspected, it was filthy, probably the cause of the malfunction, history repeating itself. He couldn't believe it had happened again, he thought he'd been more careful, but it must have slipped his mind and he had gone too long without cleaning it. He remembered feeling a cold chill down his back while looking inside his gun. Reality and the magnitude of this oversight hit him hard. The idea that his teammates couldn't count on him, that something could happen to Calleigh, whom he loved, because of him, was even worse than something happening to him. He made a vow that it wouldn't happen again, one that he'd done his best to keep, but the guilt remained and probably always would.

The memory of the shooting wasn't something he liked to dwell on, to know he had come that close to dying wasn't a pleasant thought. All the shooter would have had to have done was aim for his head, the vest wouldn't have protected him and it would have been over. He tried to make his peace with that, after all, if he died, he'd just be gone, that would be the end, but now there was Calleigh to think about. If something happened to him, she'd be left alone and that thought, that she would be hurt, pained him like nothing else ever had.

Calleigh loved him, wanted a life with him, a family even. She wanted him to stick around, needed him in her life and for her he planned to stick around for quite some time, forever if he could. If the memory of his shooting was a difficult one for him, it was also probably hard for her as well and he'd never considered her feelings when he was pissed off at her for doubting him. She'd been the one to process his weapon, knew the danger he'd put himself in and she would probably always carry that memory with her, just as he did. There was, most likely, a small part of her that wondered if it could happen again and to be brutally honest, he couldn't blame her for having that doubt.

Delko told him she had gotten a bit freaked out when she thought he'd been involved in a shooting. He'd noticed she had gotten very pale and he'd been worried about her, but she dismissed him, told him she was fine. That was so Calleigh, never admit fear, never show weakness. He shook his head, it had been three days and she still hadn't told him what was troubling her and he was the person closest to her. Still, he should have known she was more upset than she let on. Of course, by the time he saw her she was just furious with him, and he'd automatically reacted to that, didn't see she was just scared. Now he understood and needed to reassure her that he wouldn't let her down, that he'd never let her down, she was too important to him. She was everything.

He opened his eyes realizing it was much quieter now, the rain had almost stopped, the storm had finally passed. Getting up, he stretched his back, rubbed his arms hoping to generate a little heat, looked at the highway in front of him and decided it was safe enough to finally head home. He didn't know what to expect once he got there, but there was no place else he wanted to be.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Irrational

It was so silent in the apartment now that the storm had passed, she could hear every tick of the clock hanging on the wall in the hallway. Since waking to the sound of thunder, Calleigh had been sitting in the near dark, wrapped in the blanket, unable to sleep, just waiting and worrying, wondering where Tim might be, if he was all right and if he was ever coming home. She found the ticking had a soothing affect on her, the constancy of the sound helped her relax and clear her mind. She'd needed this time to figure things out in her head, to understand why she had reacted to him the way she had. She only hoped Tim would still be willing to forgive her after all she had put him through, he deserved better from the person he trusted most and she had let him down.

The sound of keys in the lock got her immediate attention. She was off the couch before he got the door completely open and pressed herself against him before he was able to it shut behind him.

He tossed his keys at the chair closest to the door and wrapped his arms around her, grateful for her embrace, it had been a lonely few days. She clasped him tightly around his waist as she leaned into his chest, crying softly. He felt her shudder and tightened his hold on her while kicking the door closed behind him. The warmth of her skin seeped through his damp shirts, taking a bit of the chill from him. He softly kissed whatever part of her he could reach and stroked her back, able to hear fragments of muffled words through her sniffles, but not comprehending. He would wait, for now it was enough just to be home with her.

"I was worried about you," she told him, briefly pulling away, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes and tear streaked cheeks. "I didn't think you were coming home and I wouldn't have blamed you. I said terrible things to you and practically threw you out."

"Cal I was always coming home, the storm just held me up." He felt her head nodding up and down from it's position back on his chest. "I shouldn't have left you in the first place. I'm so, so sorry. I won't ever leave you like that again."

"You're freezing," she said, after a long minute of just holding on to him, rubbing her hands up and down his arms in an effort to warm them.

"I'm fine Calleigh," he tried to convince her, but the goose bumps on his arms betrayed him. He tightened his hold on her, unwilling to let her go, knowing she was all he wanted at the moment.

She shook her head, persisted in pulling him over to the couch, grabbing the blanket she had discarded earlier and draping it around both of them after first making him sit. Sitting closely beside him, resting her head on his chest, she cried softly, willing herself to get control of her emotions so she could finally tell him what she'd been keeping from him these past few days.

He murmured soothing words till she stopped crying and he felt her take one last shuddering breath. Pulling back a bit so he could see her, he wiped away the remaining tears and grabbed his handkerchief from his pants pocket for her. She offered him a small smile, which he responded to with one of his own, before gratefully taking the welcomed cloth and wiping her running nose. Pushing her hair from her eyes, he realized he had never really seen her this upset before, he'd seen her cry, but never like this and knowing he was the cause of it added to the guilt he already felt.

His expression grew serious, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced now as he began to apologize, "Baby I'm so sorry I put you through this. This has been all my fault. I know you were scared and I should've been more understanding about why you were acting the way you were. You can't know how truly awful I feel about putting you in a position where you had to worry about my safety because of my past screw ups. You have to believe me, I will never let you down that way. I promise you and Calleigh, I will never break a promise I make to you. You, are all that matters to me and I can't believe I hurt you this way." He spoke softly and took a deep, audible breath before continuing.

"Cal can you please forgive me?" he asked, looking deep into her eyes, allowing her to see the pain and the burden he was carrying.

"Oh Tim, you don't have anything to be forgiven for." Her eyes filled with tears once more, realizing the guilt he still carried with him and her part in it. "It's in the past now. I handled this so badly," she paused, sniffling and shaking her head, "I should be asking for your forgiveness."

"It's OK Calleigh," he tried to reassure her. He reached out to wipe the few tears that had fallen, but she continued to shake her head at him.

"No Tim, it's not OK. Your gun was fine and I was horrible to you," she told him with a sniffle. "I do trust you and I don't know how to convince you of that after the way I treated you."

"C'mere," he appealed and attempted to pull her back into his arms, but she held him at bay, shaking her head, a smattering of tears still rolling down her face. "You don't have to convince me," he continued, but she put a finger to his lips to silence him.

"I need to try to explain," she began, "this just isn't like me. You know I don't usually act this way, but when Eric came into the lab that day and I thought..." she took a deep shuddering breath before continuing, " and I thought something had happened to you, it was almost like I could see it in front of me and it made me realize that I could lose you in an instant and that, that really scared me. Knowing how much you mean to me and how much a part of my life you are, it suddenly hit me, what losing you really meant. I couldn't shake the image of you lying there..." her voice trailed off and he took her into his arms once more, holding tightly.

"Your gun was something I could focus on, the only factor that could be controlled. I couldn't tolerate feeling scared and helpless, it just made me angry and in my head it was all your fault, because over the past year you turned my life upside down. Until you, I had done a good job of protecting my heart, of not letting anything hurt me... not so much anymore." She moved to look at him, saw his eyes were misty and reached out to stroke his stubbled cheek.

"I don't want to lose you Tim, I just can't imagine not having you in my life. I'm so sorry I pushed you away instead of trying to explain."

"I love you so much Calleigh. I'm sorry you had to go through that. Everything is OK and you don't have to worry about me like that any more." She nodded and put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and kissing him fervently, which he responded to instantly, the strain of the past few days replaced now by his need for her and hers for him.

"I'm so sorry we had this horrible fight," she told him slipping her hands under his shirt and moving her lips into his neck.

"It was just a fight Cal," he began, then stopped after she moved away from his neck and he saw her eyes widen and mouth open, "OK, it was a horrible fight," he continued, holding his hand up to still her. "We're going to be married for a really long time, it's bound to happen again." He held her cheeks in both his hands, "but please, no more couch," he pleaded.

"No more couch, I missed you too," she grinned at him, slipping the button down off his shoulders and placing her hands under his T shirt again. "You know, we really need to get these wet clothes off you," she murmured, before he captured her lips with his. He slipped his own hands under her shirt and caressed the soft skin of her back.

"Sounds like a plan," he murmured between kisses, then lifted her off the couch and carried her down to 'their' bedroom.

the end


End file.
